


With every move he makes, another chance he takes

by weepingnaiad



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spy, Ensemble Cast, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  For yeomanrand’s request of <i>Kirk/McCoy, mangoes.</i>  Basically, this is a ‘Secret Agent’ modern day AU.  Jim’s still reckless and Bones is head over heels, but it takes Nero (and Tiberius) to knock some sense into the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With every move he makes, another chance he takes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yeomanrand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeomanrand/gifts).



> **Beta:** the ever amazing and delightful, abigail89. I don’t know what I’d do without you, m’dear!  
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters in this story belong to their respective copyright owners and I’m merely allowing them a bit of fun in the spirit of transformative works and mean no infringement of any kind. I do promise to return them with smiles on.  
>  **Author’s Notes:** This fic is also a fill for my h-c bingo square: _job related trauma._ The title and pseudo-cut text comes from the song _’Secret Agent Man’_ by Johnny Rivers.

“What is this fuckery?” Len growls as he storms into the meeting room, throwing the file onto the oblong mahogany conference table. Its contents slide out, stopping in a jumbled pile before Uhura.

She just gazes at Len completely unperturbed. Uhura is her usual serene, controlled self masking terrifying steel and Len blanches under her cool appraisal. She’s still not said one word, but Len wilts under her ‘not-in-the-mood-for-it’ gaze, dropping heavily into his chair. He’s not pouting, _he’s not._ But he does cross his arms over his chest and stare out the large window. At least the view is unparalleled, nothing but unbroken blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

“I’m an Extractor. I haven’t partnered since… You can’t expect me to babysit _him,_ ” Len finally hisses. And, no, his lower lip is not sticking out!

Uhura leans forward on her elbows, her large hammered copper earrings brushing her shoulders. “Man up, Len. You can’t avoid him forever. The team’s too small, and, after that last time, Spock would have kittens before he’d partner with Kirk again. Sulu’s too new to the team, and there’s no way that _I_ have the patience for him.”

“So _I’m_ stuck with Jim T-is-for-trouble Kirk?”

“Seems like,” she answers, with a terrifying quirk of her lips and a too-knowing gleam in her eyes. “Go whine to someone who might believe you, Len. You and I both know the only reason you have a problem is because you’ve got a crush on him.”

“Shhhh!” Len waves his arms frantically as the other agents file in.

Chapel winks at Uhura as she takes her seat across from Len. “Who’s got a crush, Ny? Spill.” She nudges Uhura with her elbow and dammit if they don’t start _whispering_ and throwing amused glances his way.

“This is not high school, goddammit,” Len growls.

“No, it’s far worse, Len,” Gaila reassures as she walks in, her smile not at all reassuring. “We’re just as hormonal, but we’re all armed…” she stops and pats his hand, helping him gather up the contents of his file, before concluding, “-- and dangerous.” What Gaila’s not saying is that she’s far more dangerous than anyone that beautiful and sweet has a right to be. Len’s only more scared of Uhura.

“Who’s dangerous?” Jim jumps into the conversation even though he’s just waltzing in the door. He’s trailing two steps behind Sulu and busy tugging on his suit coat over a rumpled shirt and crooked tie. His hair is at odds with itself and there’s a goddamned hickey visible above his collar.

Len just scowls and reads through the briefing _again_ as he very consciously ignores sex-on-legs Jim Kirk.

Uhura cocks her head, eyes tracking Jim and Sulu. “Obviously not you.” She pauses, waiting for Jim to meet her eyes. “Only mice and flour sacks have anything to fear from _you_.”

“Hey! It was a rat! A giant rat!” Jim is gesturing wildly, stretching his arms wide.

“Whatever, Kirk.”

Len has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling. In Jim’s defense, which Len doesn’t dare speak aloud, the rat had been huge and the warehouse was dark and booby trapped. Still, hearing Jim scream like a little girl and seeing a flour-covered Jim racing from the side door had been priceless. That Chekov had the video and had ‘accidentally’ leaked it to the Agency’s intranet was just icing on the cake.

“You snooze, you lose, Jimmy T.”

“Wasn’t snoozing, G-string.”

Gaila slaps Jim’s arm as he passes her. “Well, duh.” She rolls her eyes and stage whispers, “Slut,” to Jim as he sits, her eyes dancing.

“Pot. Kettle,” Jim retorts. “You’re just jealous because I got into Hikaru’s pants before you.”

Sulu looks little better than Kirk. His tie’s more askew, but the bed-head looks intentional, and good on him. _Asshole._

“Already fucked everyone else, so now you’re stuck with each other?” Len’s mouth speeds on without his consent while he’s too busy trying not to think about just how hot Kirk and Sulu would be wrapped around each other.

Sulu gives Len an evil grin as he finger combs his hair, making Len sure the spikes are intentional. “Living vicariously, Doc? Or was that an offer?” He struts past Uhura, Len’s eyes glued to his tight little ass. “After all, we haven’t fucked _you_ yet.”

Len swallows his tongue but still manages to splutter out, “Yet? Dream on, flyboy!” He turns away from Sulu’s cocky grin, only to meet Jim’s eyes as he sprawls in the chair next to Len.

“Ru’s teasing, Bones. Don’t sweat it. We won’t jump you—“ Jim’s nudging Len’s leg with his toe to get his attention and his tone seems truly genuine.

“Unless you ask us to,” Sulu adds.

“Can it, Sulu.” Chapel grabs his hand, forcing him to sit. “Not everyone’s an exhibitionist.”

“Thank God for small favors!” Jim laughs as he sits forward, leaning on his elbows, his knee bumping Len’s. “If we were all exhibitionists, who’d watch?”

“And right back to it,” Len grumbles under his breath. He lifts his eyes to meet Uhura’s, silently pleading to be saved. Instead of Uhura coming to his rescue, Spock, of all people, does. Len tries to be grateful for small favors, but it’s too much fun baiting the stiff-necked ops expert, and Len’s not sure he’s been rescued or thrown into the fire.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is good of you to arrive on time, but it would also be helpful if you would consider just what is meant by ‘proper attire’.” Spock is standing behind his chair, posture perfect, not a hair out of place, and his suit is immaculate. Only Uhura doesn’t fidget under his appraisal. He places a file folder precisely on the table in front of him and smoothly sits down.

“The commander will be here in a matter of minutes, but I wanted to take the time to address some issues that have yet to be resolved.”

Len tunes out as Spock begins to drone on and on about reports not being filed correctly, about the proper this and the correct that. Spock is meticulous to a fault and the entire team humors him. Only Chekov actually follows his protocol to the letter, but he’s young yet, and too eager to please. Even Uhura, who smiles fondly at Spock, ignores his cumbersome strictures.

Len is drifting, trying to ignore Kirk who’s pressed too close; damned kid has no sense of personal space. His spicy cologne is overlain with hints of cigarettes and musk. The idiot didn’t even bother to shower!

It’s too much for Len, so he retreats into the familiar: memorizing layouts, conduits, air ducts, power grids, necessary details of the physical locations they are using for this assignment. This team’s the best, even if Len’s surrounded by hormonal teenagers, so Len’s primary skill, his medical training, is rarely needed. Instead they rely on him for something less concrete and hard enough to quantify that Spock gets a twitchy left eye when Len’s verbally running through his plan. He’s the last resort, the best extractor in the business, and he’s not humble enough to deny it.

It’d be better if Len was never needed, but along with having a well-earned reputation as the best comes the hardest missions, the ones that other teams didn’t survive. Len gets fully utilized here among Enterprise’s band of geniuses, his ability to map the layout, know instantly how to cut power and sweep in to retrieve their agents makes him invaluable, especially with Jim around who pushes things further than anyone else, even here.

He’s startled back to the meeting when Uhura hisses at Jim, her glare cowing everyone _but_ Kirk.

“What?” Jim asks innocently, pulling out that winning schoolboy smile that gets him whatever he wants, except it doesn’t work on Uhura. Thank god someone’s immune.

Uhura is standing, leaning over the table toward Jim, her smile triumphant. “Don’t join a battle of wits unarmed, Kirk.”

Len’s confused, knows he missed something, the team dissolving into riotous laughter as Jim just shrugs and grins. Before he can fire an answering volley, Pike strides into the room, Chekov and Scotty following. Len presses his palm to Jim’s thigh, cautioning, “Shut it,” under his breath.

Jim looks at him with those infernal blue eyes of his, something in them that Len refuses to see. But he sits back, long legs stretched before him, jostling the chair Chekov’s aiming for. The chair slides away and Chekov’s nearly dumped in Sulu’s lap, making the kid blush and stammer out an apology.

Pike takes a deep breath and sits. He doesn’t need to say a word, simply turns those steel blue eyes on Jim and the room goes silent, Jim noticeably straightening. Len doesn’t know the full story, he’s only heard snippets of it, but he does know that Pike worked with Jim’s dad, the two were close enough that Pike was part of Jim’s life long before he was recruited to the agency. Best Len can say is that Pike is Jim’s mentor, a surrogate father-figure who is the only person Len’s seen can keep Jim in line. Without Pike around, Len wonders if Jim wouldn’t already have gotten himself killed.

~~*~~

“Mangoes!” crackles through his earpiece in a harsh whisper and Len’s blood runs cold. He should have known that this was going to go bad. Nero was too insistent on the meeting and too eager to cut a deal, definitely not his normal M.O. And, of course, Jim doesn’t follow protocol, running off alone, leaving Len out here…

He sprints around the warehouse, nearly running over another one of Nero’s men. This one goes down quickly with Len’s gun butt to his temple. The door squeaks loudly when Len throws it open and then the sharp crack of gunshots ring out. He knows he’s not fast enough, can’t outrun bullets, but he runs anyway, cursing and swearing every step of the way as the echoes ping in his head.

“Goddammit, Jim!” He doesn’t care about stealth, the darkened warehouse broadcasts every movement and he has no time to waste with being cautious. He cracks his shin on a pipe, nearly tripping him, but he races on, the pain only dimly registering as he weaves through boxes and crates. “If you get yourself killed, I’m going to chase you to Hades myself and kill you again!”

Len stumbles across two more of Nero’s men in the dark, somehow managing to get the jump on them even with all the noise he’s making. They’re worse off than him, fumbling around, tripping over shit strewn on the floor. It takes forever to wind through the warehouse, but Len’s got the layout memorized, knows exactly where the office is, how many steps there are to the door. The team has heard Jim’s callout, so they’re closing in, giving Len the confidence to burst into the office.

“Fuck!”

It’s just as Len had figured. That bastard Nero is dead, but he didn’t go down without a fight.

And Jim is lying, broken, in a widening pool of blood. Len goes still, his training taking over, shunting aside inconvenient feelings. He swears into his mic, screaming for backup, for an ambulance, for help. “Agent down! Need a wagon now, Spock! Now!”

Sulu and Mitchell burst into the office, the distant wail of sirens drawing near.

Len doesn’t look up, he can’t. He rushes into action, stripping Jim’s leather jacket, finds a wound… too near his lungs. “C’mon, Jim. Stay with me, goddammit.” Len staunches the flow from two bullets; one went clean through Jim’s abdomen, leaving a hole. The other, the higher wound, that’s the one that will likely take Jim’s life. Len has no idea if the bullet’s still in or not, but he can hear a slight gurgle-hiss. Punctured lung. _’Shit.’_

It feels like hours before the EMTs shove Len aside and take over. Len’s shouting orders until Spock drags him away. He’s in a daze, moving on automatic as he gives his report. They got Nero, got the goods, got enough to shutdown the operation for good, but Len’s not convinced it’s worth the price.

~~*~~

The nightmare’s never ending, blood everywhere, deafening gunshots echoing in the cavern Len is trudging through. He’s running, but never makes progress through the molasses-like sludge. A light flares up ahead and he struggles harder even though he knows what he’ll see when he makes it there. Jim… bled out…

“Len! Len!” a soft voice and a gentle hand on his shoulder drag him back to the land of the living and he moans as he tries to straighten, but he’s stiff from being bent over, sleeping with your head on a hospital bed’s never a good idea.

Still he opens his eyes to see Uhura’s worried frown. “Len, I’m taking you home.”

He looks back at the bed, back to where his hand is still gripping Jim’s. He shakes his head. He can’t leave him, not again.

Uhura sighs and forces Len to look at her. “You won’t do him any good if you end up in a hospital bed yourself.”

“It’s not safe, Nero’s—“

“Spock is here, Len. We’re not leaving him alone.” She sounds so confident and Len’s brain isn’t working, probably too much caffeine and too little real sleep.

Before he can answer, Chapel’s voice drifts in from the hallway. “No, Sir. You cannot go in there—“

Apparently, whoever Chapel is talking to disagrees with her opinion on the matter because the door opens and in walks Chapel on the arm of an older, much older gentleman. He has to be in his 80s, but he’s still spry with bright blue eyes. Looks can be deceiving. He has Chapel’s right arm trapped against his side, leaving him free to reach for a gun.

Spock immediately stands, intercepting the intruder. “Excuse me, you are not allowed—“

The intruder waves his hand. “Of course I am…” he pauses, his expression nothing short of mischievous, then grins, “Spock.”

“I admit that you have the advantage over me. Who are you?”

Before the intruder can answer, Chekov bursts into the room. “Sir! Sir! There’s a man asking after Jim! I’ve delayed him and alerted the Commander. We need to go into lockdown. Now!”

The intruder just chuckles. “Looks like you’re a little late, Chekov.”

Chekov gapes at the man, completely at a loss.

Luckily for everyone, Uhura has her head on straight and her gun handy. It’s already pointed at the intruder, aimed right between the eyes. Thank god Uhura never messes about.

He raises his hands, releasing Chapel just as Pike rushes into the room. “Goddammit!”

He’s swearing a blue streak while the intruder just laughs. “You have some problems here, Chrissie?”

Uhura’s still pointing the gun at the intruder when Chris huffs with exasperation, laughing as he claps the man on the back. “This one’s ‘safe’, well, at least he’s safe with Jim, anyway.”

Uhura hesitates, but Chris meets her eyes and she lowers the gun, tucking it back into her holster. How she manages to hide the large weapon she carries always befuddles Len. Her clothes don’t have enough material to hide a bee!

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce Sr. Commander Tiberius Kirk,” Chris announces.

Tiberius adds, “Retired,” and offers his hand to Spock. “No hard feelings, son, but I’ve kept up with the lot of you. If this one,” he points a thumb at Pike, “doesn’t tell me all about it, then Jim sure as shootin’ does.”

Spock blinks, but shakes Tiberius’ hand before he retreats to Uhura’s side. They’re still ‘guarding’ Jim, and Len, to be honest, but Tiberius is having none of that. He turns to the bed after a moment of teasing Chekov who blushes bright red.

“Oh, Jimmy,” his voice cracks and the sparkle’s gone from his eyes. Chapel and Chekov are gone in an instant, the door closing silently behind them.

Uhura, ever the skillful diplomat, rests a consoling hand on Tiberius’ shoulder. “We’ll take our leave, but someone will be right outside.”

Tiberius nods. “Yes, thank you.”

Len is loath to leave Jim’s side, but Uhura’s tugging on him and he’s shuffling forward, too tired to argue. He feels like he’s slinking away and he knows he shouldn’t, but he’s not next of kin. Hell, he’s not _anything_ right now.

Tiberius turns. “Not you, McCoy. You sit your ass back down.”

Len flinches. The threat in his voice makes Uhura stiffen and she doesn’t let Len go. He’s grateful, yet he can handle this. He untangles his arm from Uhura’s bruising grip and gives her a wan smile. She cocks her head in silent question, but Len nods to the door.

“Sir?” Chris asks, the single word weighted, heavy.

“Leave us alone now, Chrissie. We’ll talk about how easily I got past your people later.”

“Fine,” Chris mutters under his breath, but he does as he’s told, leaving Len alone with Jim’s grandfather; his very pissed grandfather by the look of things.

The door closes once again, but this time it’s just Len, Tiberius, and Jim. An unnaturally still and quiet Jim. Len swallows and takes the chair Tiberius directs him to.

He can do nothing but watch as Tiberius leans over his grandson’s form and growls at him, “Don’t you even think of checking out on me. I lost your daddy too young and I ain’t having it again, you hear me, mister?”

Tiberius takes Jim’s hand, rubs his finger across the knuckles and sighs. He leans over and kisses Jim’s forehead, a surprisingly tender gesture that makes Len’s gut ache. He feels like an outsider, an uninvited witness, he should leave, but he’d been ordered to stay.

When Tiberius turns back to Len, he crosses his arms and leans against the bed. The man’s stocky and short, not at all how Len imagined Jim’s grandfather would be. He’d seen enough pictures of his famed father to see the resemblance between George and Jim, but Tiberius is different, warmer in a way, but still terrifying as all fuck.

“I’m not going to bite your head off, McCoy, so quit looking at me like that.”

Tiberius cocks his head to the side, eyes taking in Len’s state. “Cute hair,” he says, giving Len a toothy grin. In that instant, Len sees the Kirk scion, the fucker that put them all on this ridiculous road. He’s still talking, ignoring Len’s lack of response, “--but you really look like shit. Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re no good to Jim if you make yourself sick?”

“I… excuse me?”

“Do I need to use smaller words? I thought you were a genius? Hell, I thought every last one of you were and look how easily I wandered in here!”

Tiberius shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in them all. Len doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet.

“Look, Chris sent me the report, but I want you to tell me what happened.”

It is couched as a request, but Len recognizes an order a mile away. The problem for Len, and the whole reason he’d washed out of the Navy, is that the filter between his mouth and his brain doesn’t work, especially when he’s scraped raw from exhaustion and no little guilt.

Crossing his arms, he glares at Tiberius and shakes his head. “With all due respect, _Sir,_ I don’t give a flying fuck what you want. I already gave my report to Chris and I don’t have anything else to add.”

Tiberius is looking at him with this inscrutable expression on his face as he replies, “Bullshit.”

Len stiffens. He has no idea how to deal with this man, but his temper’s flaring and he’s going to say something stupid if he doesn’t leave. He stands, turning to walk out, when Tiberius reaches for him.

“Stay, McCoy. Jim needs you to.”

 _Well, shit._ Somehow Tiberius knows the exact words to throw water on the fire of Len’s anger. Len drops back into the chair, his legs giving way. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Look, I love my grandson, but I’m not blind to his faults. He’s got a passel of them. But, he talks about you a lot and so does Chris. You’re good for him. I need to know you’ll look after him.”

Len just snorts and shakes his head. “I try, sir, but Jim doesn’t make it easy.” Len’s mind flips back to that night, remembers all too clearly how Jim had tricked and lied to him. _’Just scouting, Bones. Keep watch,’_ he’d said, then he was off and Len was ducking regular patrols of Nero’s men until that stupid signal blared through his mic.

“He shut me out on purpose. Took on Nero alone like he had a death wish.” Len’s chest aches at the thought, the worry that Jim won’t wake and he’ll never _know_ eating Len alive. “I can’t look after him like that.”

“So don’t let him get away with it.”

Tiberius says it like Len could stop Jim Kirk from doing anything. Len just frowns and Tiberius chuckles. “Look, son. You mean a lot to Jim and from the looks of you, he means a lot to you. I suspect that he kept you out that night to keep you safe, not because he wanted to go it alone.”

Len hears nothing after learning that he means a lot to Jim. “Why do you say that?”

“Because my grandson has never talked about anyone like he does you. You matter to him, McCoy.”

“I’m his best friend, sir, nothing more, but I won’t desert him.”

Tiberius shakes his head. “You mean a whole lot more to Jim than just a ‘friend’.”

Len’s poised to argue, but Tiberius holds up his hand. “Fine. Don’t believe me. I’m sure he’s never said anything, probably flaunts conquest after conquest in your face, fights desperately to keep you at arm’s length, even though he drags you close, can’t stand to not be next to you.” He stops, waiting for Len to agree, but Len’s insides are shaking, his stomach’s in knots and his throat’s too dry to speak. “I see. Guess I hit that one out of the park.”

Tiberius takes a deep breath and leans close to Len. “He’s a Kirk. We’re stupidly protective, reckless, and just plain stupid at the best of times. Love makes us even crazier. George and I both about ran off our wives before we’d even gotten a single date. And Jim,” he sighs and Len can hear the weight of regret and guilt in it. “Well, Jimmy’s got more than a few issues with trust, and he’s scared. He’d rather keep you as a friend than lose you altogether. So, I’m telling you, McCoy, you love my grandson, then you’re going to have to be the one that makes the move. And _then_ you can ride his ass until he pulls his head out and stops this lone wolf act.”

Len stares at Tiberius, completely unable to think or speak.

“Go on, git out now. You let Uhura or Chapel take you home. It’ll all make sense once you’ve gotten some sleep.” Tiberius is settling in a chair at Jim’s side, his hand holding Jim’s gently.

When Len doesn’t move Tiberius looks at him and tilts his head toward the door. “Take care of yourself, McCoy. I need you whole so you can watch out for him for me. He’s all I have now.”

Seemingly against his will, Len nods and leaves, only pausing at the door to look at Jim one last time. Something settles in his gut, a determination that he’s not going to live like this again. He’s going to corner Jim and hash this out. He owes it to himself and to Tiberius.

The problem is that his determination butts up against Jim’s stonewalling. Len’s never met anyone as inventive as Jim at avoiding someone, even before Jim is released from the hospital. Jim had to have roped in the whole team _and_ the entire nursing staff because there was no way that it was coincidence that Len couldn’t get Jim alone for a solid week. All Jim’s avoidance does is light a fire under Len and, for all Jim’s creativity, he’s got nothing on sheer McCoy cussedness.

So it’s Len who drives Jim home when he’s released and it’s Len who’s there to witness Jim’s eyes when they pull up outside of Len’s condo.

“What are we doing here, Bones? You planning on taking advantage of my weakened state?” Jim covers his wide-eyed lapse with confident bravado.

Len grips the steering wheel and resists the urge to slap him. “Yeah, Jim. I am.” Len says it calmly and with complete assurance. He turns and gives Jim a heated look.

Jim goes pale, then flushes all while fidgeting in the seat, first releasing his seatbelt, then fiddling with the lock. He tests the door, but it won’t open. Len had engaged the child locks for just this moment. “No snappy comeback, kid?”

Jim sags back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks like nothing more than a sullen teen, glaring and closed off. “You locked me in.”

“I was tired of chasing. We’re overdue a talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

Len shakes his head. He should have known that Jim would fight him on this. He shrugs out of his seatbelt and slides over, thankful that he didn’t have some fancy sports car with a shifter in his way. Jim’s eyes widen as Len advances, but he’s doing that thing where he keeps licking his lips and he's got his palms spread flat on his thighs. “Wha-what are you doing, Bones?”

Len doesn’t answer, just wraps one hand around Jim’s neck and pulls him into a searing kiss. Jim stiffens at first, then flails, hitting his elbow on the window before he manages to wrap Len up and kiss back. The kid can _kiss._ They stay like that, wrapped around each other, a long, lazy exploration, Jim chasing Bones’ tongue when he retreats, Len threading his fingers through Jim’s hair, the other cradling his bandaged torso, that gauze the reason he’d finally gotten up the nerve to do this.

It takes minutes, hours possibly, and the windows have definitely fogged up, for them to part, but they don’t pull away, merely breathe in tandem, hearts thudding loudly.

“You sure, Bones?” If Len hadn’t already had Jim in a comforting embrace, the insecurity and doubt in his voice would have compelled Len to gather him up. All he wants to do is protect this man, stupid as that might be, considering who Jim is and what he does. None of that changes the fact that he’s crazy in love with the reckless idiot.

“If you are, Jim.” Len tilts his head back, just enough to see Jim’s face. He doesn’t hide anything from the intent appraisal, lets Jim see it all.

“Love you, too, Bones.” Then the trademark Kirk smirk blooms and Len knows he’s in deep trouble. “So, about that taking advantage thing… can we start now?”

The End


End file.
